The Virgin Voyage - Buying and Riding a Motorcycle in Pakistan

I have always wanted a motorcycle ever since I rode a scooter for the first time in Thailand 7 years ago. I still remember the unlimited sense feeling of freedom I felt in the paradise of Thailand's beaches, working my way up a strenuous mountain path to be rewarded with an incredible view and a delicious pad thai. After riding on the back of a few bikes recently and feeling the exhilarating rush of air in my face, I knew that Pakistan would be as good of a place as any to finally realize my dreams of owning a motorcycle. 

My colleague Jamshaid gave me my first and last motorcycle lesson. So the right pedal is a brake, the left pedals are for gearing up and down, the right handlebar is the front brake and the left handlebar is the clutch. 30 minutes and a couple spins around the neighbourhood later, Jamshaid tells me with the authority of a wise master guru "you are ready". Woohoo!

Moazzam, another colleague and avid automotive enthusiast with 3 cars and 4 motorbikes, took me to Lahore's sprawling automotive market to buy my first bike. He worked in the automotive sector for 30 years before joining AMC and knew every single person in the market. It was an incredible place, reminding me of a scene out of the dusty planet Tatooine from Star Wars. There were shops everywhere with people banging away loudly at metal or pouring hot oil solutions to clean out different automotive parts.

I fell in love with the first bike that I saw, a 150 cc Ravi. Moazzam told me maybe I should be less ambitious for my first bike so we moved on. Then I saw her. It was like a moment at a house party where I lock eyes with a beautiful girl who's into me. Her headlight gazed right into my soul from 20 meters away and I was inextricably drawn to her. My love at second sight was a 2012 Honda CD100 with 100cc's of raw amateur-level-motorcycle-power. Moazzam negotiated an amazing price for me and I'll be only paying maybe $10/month of depreciation on it. 

We returned a few days later to drop off my cash and pick up the bike. Moazzam brought his son who was extremely excited to help me drop the bike off at my home. He beamed with joy at the opportunity to ride my bike and offered to buy it from me after I leave Pakistan. In all my excitement Moazzam also

ended up buying a gorgeous 150 cc Suzuki from the same dealer... I might end up trading in my bike to his son and borrowing his Suzuki after a few months!

I scarfed down lunch while catching up with my friend and fellow Bailey before hopping on my bike with the same amount of excitement as when I got my first Nintendo 64. My first challenge was getting the bike out of my uphill driveway. It took 5 frustrating stalled efforts to get my bike out of my house... great.

The hardest part about riding a bike is getting her started without stalling the engine. The clutch on a bike is much less forgiving than that a car's. Not to mention the distraction of cars whirring by inches away from me with the nonchalant flair of the Pakistani driving culture. 

I found myself a nice quiet residential strip to practice launching my bike before making my way out to the main roads. Driving in Pakistan is absolutely insane. Cars don't yield to you proactively. You basically get in their way and assume that they will just move to avoid you. Somehow, the flow of traffic ends up working out in this country.

The relatively empty Sunday roads made for a real fun day to learn how to ride. I fumbled through my gear shifts, feeling an uneasy lurch every time I gave too much gas or didn't release my clutch smoothly enough. There were just way too many data points in my head to process and I reminded myself of the power of emotion and the subconscious. I stopped trying to think my way through riding and started following my emotions. I felt the cracks of the road, the rumble of the engine, the clicking of the gears just before they merged seamlessly with the drive train, and it changed everything - I started cruising effortlessly through the experience.

I floored it a couple times and loved the feeling of the bike's engine roaring between my legs, giving a whole new level of meaning to the word "horse power". As I whizzed by other bikes, sedans, jaywalking pedestrians, rickshaws and donkey carts, I found myself naturally gravitating back to the center lanes of the road where I was no longer scared of being surrounded by traffic. It was a feeling of pure bliss and liberation. 

Along the main roads were all the signs of service to the elites of society - all the western brand names were well represented on the main strips. I cruised by glitzy malls with brands such as Armani and Rolex situated alongside fine Western dining establishments such as KFC and McDonalds. After a good 30 minutes of riding I figured it was time to go back home. 

Lahore is quite confusing to navigate and I found myself taking a wrong turn and going through a narrow dirt underpass under a railway track. I entered a whole other world on the other side of the tracks. Only but a railway track demarcated the division between rich and the poor. There was an entire community created, and thriving, along the other side of the tracks. I cruised by children playing cricket on the streets, teens idling away their Sunday afternoon on billiards tables set up on the side of the railway tracks, and entrepreneurs selling curries out of crude vats of steel off the tracks. 

It was a fascinating slice of Pakistani life that lasted about 2 kilometers before I found a railway crossing to return home. The gates were down and I waited patiently alongside a sea of Pakistani drivers. Acumen says a lot about "standing with the poor" but they never said anything about "waiting to cross a railroad with the poor and wearing a stealth mode bike helmet yet still attracting tons of curious glares from commuters stuck in traffic who don't see a lot of foreigners."

Soon, the gates flung open and traffic started moving. Everyone was honking at each other and maneuvering opportunistically to get a couple slots ahead in traffic. I got my bike started and started the arduous journey uphill through the track crossings while surrounded by many impatient commuters. Talk about a high pressure situation. And I passed the test without stalling.

My new pride and joy. Her name is Da Bang.